The New Days of Forgotten Days
by OllieGil
Summary: When Matthew wakes up from a concussion, he finds himself in the room with two people: James and Alfred. Both are people he feels very, very strongly about, with one as his lover, and the other as his brother. There's only one problem: Who is who? RVP and AmeCan.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is dedicated to my lovely bro Couch! Merry Christmas, Couch! Sorry your present here is a bit late. Hope ya like this story though! *casually burns a couch in celebration* u/w/u *is shot***

**Synopsis: ****When Matthew wakes up from a concussion, he finds himself in the room with two people: James and Alfred. Both are people he feels very, very strongly about, with one as his lover, and the other as his brother. There's only one problem: Who is who?**

**I'm pretty sure this isn't a real form of amnesia. Through learning about psychology we've learned about people forgetting certain functions or having damage to certain parts leads to certain uncertainties, but from my knowledge, I have not heard of an 'amnesia' type where someone mixes up who two, specific, separate people are. This story is _based_ on the form of amnesia, though it is purely unrealistic.**

**Casually warns that**** I do not own Hetalia or amnesia.**

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><p>The pounding of his skull was the first thing that registered. Not even the immense darkness that enfolded his dazed state, but the overwhelming sense of pain that beat inside his scalp. His skin felt like it was strained, as if it had just been tugged on roughly and was left in the aftermath of bruises that were littered on his figure. His eyes were heavy and dry, but when they dared cracked open, the sudden flash of the white consciousness made them clamp up again. An irritable groan escaped his throat, though it hardly registered through his ringing ears, which were buzzing with a high-pitched, dizzying drone of a sound. He couldn't move though, not an inch. Every fidget made his body moan in agony; a lazy dismissal of the awakened world.<p>

This place wasn't normal, he could tell that right away. Not the bed he was in, anyway, nor the lights or the smell of the air around them. These blankets were too stiff, or maybe they were too thin or too constrained to the bed. He couldn't put his finger on it, but something was off. It wasn't 'regular'. This wasn't his room, nor his usual placement in any bed. There was no telling where this exactly was, however, until the dazed eyelids of his decided to flutter open another time, only to shut out the light a moment later. It wasn't a blinding light, but it wasn't something the male wanted to experience after his involvement in the darkness that surrounded his vision for who knows how long.

Voices rang out in a loud snap, unlike his other senses. They didn't gradually unfold into his ears, but shot through his sleeping state like a shock. However, meaning was lost through these verbal announces as they flung back and forth. Different speakers was all the male could tell, some at a lower tone, some at a squeak and others a demanding boom. Then there was that repetition of his name: Matthew. Matthew, Matthew, Matthew.

He refused to wake up immediately, probably to the disappointment to the voices who requested him to do such, and made another groan as his head rolled off to the side. Even this, however, made the male feel stiff with whatever inflicted the pain he was experiencing. Another attempt to see what was surrounding him was made, though instead of blindly opening and closing, the male adjusted his control by squinting. This made the room slightly more tolerable, enough to view a shadow or two in the room, but only until he forced his eyes closed again due to the beaming lights creating tears in his eyes. It was no use.

"It's too bright," he finally groaned out, his voice croaking in a sickly octave. There seemed to be a silence over the room for a moment, but the whoosh of curtains was a sound that echoed through, along with the clatter of whatever was holding them still. The boy felt himself relaxing with the change to darkness on his eyelids, especially when the lights in the actual room dimmed in their brightness as well.

"This good, Matt bro?" It was a voice Matthew recognized. Which one? He couldn't tell. Names and places and days and times escaped him. Knowledge seemed to escape his general thinking, right up until the male finally, carefully, let his eyes ease open to the darker environment.

Two people. Shadowy figures became somewhat clearer, revealing one person on the left side of the bed, and another dashing back to a seat on the right. They were both people the male could feel familiar with instantly, just with one look of their faces. Shaggy blonde hair tied up in a messy ponytail was the distinguishing feature of the male on the left, whereas the male on the right had shorter hair with an odd lick of it flipping upwards. The left had a red, plaid shirt messily strung on his burly build, barely matching with the hazy violet eyes which were littered underneath with bags from sleepless nights. On the other hand, the right seemed to have bright and joyful azure orbs-barely tired in the least-with a bomber jacket fit neatly onto his figure and a nameless superhero t-shirt fitted underneath.

Matthew knew who these two people were. He recognized them loud and clear. Their faces were not easy to forget, as he had spent so much time with both of them. James and Alfred. His beloved lover and his dear brother.

His lover, and his brother. His brother, and his lover.

Matthew blinked for a second. Something felt...off.

"You're finally awake," the husky lumberjack, who was James, finally muttered. His arms remained in the position they were in, one slinging carelessly across the side of the bed, and the other keeping his cheek up. He was inclined forward on the bed, appearing in a lazy stance that was as if he could fall asleep any minute. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"We were worried sick while you were out, bro!" the excitable puppy, who was Alfred, proclaimed. He was standing upright, his palms holding him from falling as he leaned over to the male in the bed. "I bought a whole four gallons of coffee just so we could stick by ya through and through! I even brought my games over so that I could stay up here and not let ya be alone!"

A heavy sigh went in reply to this, and the sturdier one rolled his eyes. "I can always knock him out for a few days if you want some silence, Matthew."

"Dude! That's too harsh! Lighten up!" Alfred let out a whine of complaint, finally plopping himself down on the chair parallel to James's side, pouting and glancing over to Matthew. "You don't mind if I'm here, right Mattie? You love it when I talk to you, right? Right?"

"Of course, Al," came Matthew's reply. It was so easy to reply to this sentence in such a simple, straightforward way. It was like he was hardwired to talk like this to this situation, like he had done it a million times over.

It felt weird though, trying to connect the pieces of why he was talking like this to this particular person. He knew who Alfred was-which of the two he was-and could easily distinguish him in a crowd, but...

Who was 'Alfred' again?

The fog of past memories didn't lighten up. He _knew_ he knew Alfred. He wouldn't _not_ be able to distinguish Alfred and James and feel familiar with them under any particular circumstances. As Matthew's amethyst gaze flicked back and forth between these two, the same form of warmth grew in his chest. He loved these people.

But in what ways?

"D'you remember what happened, Matt?" Alfred began speaking again, after a silence. "You were out for a while, and the docs said it was a pretty serious crash, so we were both real worried about you! Parents had to go back to work and stuff though, but we booked off because we wanted to be with you right until you woke up!"

_That's_ where the male was: a hospital. As he gazed around the room, eyes still somewhat blurry, he could notice the white expanse of everything surrounding him. White curtains, white sheets, all of it that bland colour that displayed all too well what it was. There was some colour, yes, some posters, some fun little knickknacks, but the general area was that cliché ivory milk that covered the room. No wonder those lights felt so bright.

He couldn't remember though, not about any sort of 'crash'. Knowledge still escaped him, at the moment. If he looked around, or even spent a few minutes relaxing, he assumed he would recognize everything in due time. For now though, nothing came to his memory. Not even the picture of his home.

"No, what happened?" He didn't even try to think about what might have occurred. Really, it just seemed like he was waking up from some painful dream. However, a mere 'painful dream' probably wouldn't have lead Matthew to the hospital, nor would it have scrambled his memory enough that he couldn't even fathom a guess at what he could have been doing to create such harm.

"You were driving home from hockey practice," James spoke up, cutting off Alfred from trying to speak at the same time as him. "We didn't hear from you after that for hours, and then we get a call there's been a crash and you were at the hospital."

"Surprisingly it wasn't the hockey practice that knocked you out this time! We got here as fast as we could when we heard though!" the American now interrupted, making the other blonde roll his eyes. "But you were in a coma and whatnot for a few days. We got really worried after a bit, but we knew you'd wake up!"

The word 'hockey' seemed to bring warm memories, though the little hint that apparently the male had been injured in such a way before due to this 'hobby' was a bit unsettling. These memories were blurry, and Matthew knew that they were not perfect, but they were there.

Alfred, James. James, Alfred. Lover, Brother. Brother, Lover. Was _that_ the mix-up? The decision whether he is involved with James or Alfred?

"Yeah... I'm awake," Matthew breathed in agreement, glancing down to his hands. He didn't appear too damaged from the crash, at least. The doctors must have cleaned him up well, with only a few scars on his arms; probably from shattered glass. He didn't want to know what he crashed his head into and what his skull looked like at the moment. Even moving it still felt like carrying a bowling ball on his neck.

"We-" A quick rap of the door interrupted James from continuing, and the three glanced over to the entrance. The male entering was obviously a nurse, as apparent by the outfit he had on matching the bland wallpaper surrounding them, and the clipboard in his fingers. He appeared to look friendly enough though, flashing a bright smile to those inside.

"I have explained to Doctor Beilschmidt that Matthew is awake and we shall run through a few tests as soon as possible, so you all may go back home as fast as you can!" he sung, giving Matthew the most attention out of the lot of them as he glanced around. "Might you be quite alright with that, love?"

Matthew gave a nod, though it was still somewhat shaky. "Oui. Yeah. That sounds good."

The nurse glanced over to him and quirked an eyebrow, before a laugh left his throat. "But first, I suppose you should rest, yes? James and Alfred, was it? Might you care to follow me?"

The two of the visitors frowned, but Alfred was the first to get up and flashed one of his award-winning smiles to the one in the bed. "Don't worry, bro! The hero'll make sure you'll get out of this A-OK!" He practically flopped on top of the injured male to wrap him into a tight, painful bear hug. Alfred was usually rather strong on a normal level, but to the already-bruising Canadian, it seemed that surviving the car crash was the easy part of this whole ordeal...

"Alfred..." If there was ever a sound to explain more pain than when the male woke up, it would have been this choked moan.

"Alfred, I will get my hockey stick if you break him," James threatened, raising from his seat a bit slower than the American. Alfred obviously complained, but as soon as he was pushed out the door, James had his time to show his affection: by patting the other's head.

"Feel better, eh?" was how he started, with his patting somewhat better than Alfred's deathly hugging, but it still hurt with the Canadian's heavy head. He paced out of the room though, not even apologizing when the male let out a whine of complaint to his actions. "I'll make sure to beat you in hockey as soon as you get out of that bed if you don't take care of yourself."

"Noted," Matthew replied, a small smile creeping onto his cheeks. Brother, lover. Lover, brother.

With the two of them gone, the nurse assured the boy that he had no need to hurry with feeling better. His doctor would come in and out a few times to check up, but he had no reason to push himself until he was sure he was ready for the tests.

Eventually, Matthew was left laying in the bed, allowing his eyes to shut in the dimmed light and relaxing. He needed a bit of recovery from the rough handling in itself. The Canadian didn't exactly believe he was 'fragile', though he would agree that the other two were both rather strong. His memories failed in providing evidence that Matthew was or was not proven stronger than the either though, when he was in normal condition.

With these sort of thoughts, it was inevitable that the blonde's thoughts would trail off to the troubles dealing with the two precious people who had been in the room with him.

James Williams. They shared their last name, so that meant they were brothers, right? Or, maybe they were married. Matthew didn't notice a ring on either of their fingers, but he wasn't really looking. James was Canadian, which added to the fact that they could be brothers. It also added to the fact that they could have met here and started a life here.

Alfred F. Jones. They didn't share a last name, which could make him a good assumption for being the lover. Alfred also identified himself as American, which also supported the theory of Matthew and him not being related. However, there was an alternative to this: Alfred could have moved away from Matthew and changed his last name if they _were_ brothers. Who said Alfred wasn't married to someone else and changed their name? From Matthew's foggy memory, Alfred was always like the embodiment of the loud American, and he wanted to explore all over the world; or at least the Americas. Whether these dreams came true for him so that he could travel while letting his brother stay home was a nice assumption, but it also meant something else: If Matthew and Alfred were dating, they wouldn't be living together, probably. Alfred was the type to go out and party whereas Matthew was the type to settle down.

Logic-wise, with the last names and nationalities, it made more sense for Alfred to be the lover. Structure-wise, with the last names and nationalities, it made more sense for James to be the lover.

It really all bubbled down to whether Matthew was married or not.

Looking down to his own thin fingers, the Canadian didn't notice a ring, but that hardly meant much. He could have lost it in the crash.

These thoughts weren't exactly helping.

While the male was deep in thought, the nurse must have returned into the room to clean, since when Matthew finally opened his eyes, that nurse that pulled away his brother-lover had returned, and was re-arranging things to neat, straightforward positions. A chair was pushed back against the wall, then some flowers were watered with a nearby faucet...

As Matthew was watching, the option of speaking up came to his thoughts. Everything would probably guide into place if he got confirmation on who these people were, and he could work on retrieving the correct memories instead of spending all this time in muddled grey area. He couldn't just ask James or Alfred though. Well, he could, but that could be a last-resort topic. It wasn't entirely the least embarrassing thing to not be able to tell your lover from your brother. That in itself might tell more than it would need to.

The nurse might know, and if not, maybe the doctor had some information on him that could be useful. Then asking his own parents could be another safe option, as they would know for sure who Matthew's brother was without option, and they would also be caring enough to the Canadian to understand his plight.

But first, maybe just asking the nurse...

"Nurse," the male finally piped up, leaning forward in the bed to straighten up. However, straightening up ended up becoming a bit more painful than he planned, and he let out a slight groan after doing such. Both the spoken words nor the groan appeared to catch the happy attendant's attention though, who appeared to be lost in his own little world, humming an upbeat tune as he waved a cloth around the few surfaces that was there. "Nurse? Nurse..."

It wasn't like Matthew wanted to bother him or anything; what if he was really busy? Maybe he should just speak up at a later time...

However, after this, it seemed, the nurse spun around in his spot, and ended up meeting his azure eyes with the Canadian. As their gazes locked for a while longer, the other tilted his head in confusion.

"Might you need something?" Matthew was used to this sort of ignorance enough that the moment of defeat wasn't quite so much a blow; especially at the moment.

"Do you know who...those people were?" It was painful to ask, and even more so to wait in anticipation for the other to provide some kind of answer. It was almost as if he didn't really want to know. This was like a sign of defeat, in a way; admitting that he couldn't tell his lover and brother apart...

The nurse, with good reason, appeared bewildered by this question. "They said they were your family, were they not?"

"No, they are!" he assured hurriedly, now doubting his choice in words. Damn it, Matthew, it wasn't like these people were strangers! Think about it in clear terms: what was happening? He didn't want to appear incompetent, nor did he want to place trouble on either James of Alfred. "I just...can't place a name to a face. I know their names, and their faces, but..."

Still, the male didn't appear to understand. However, instead of waiting for Matthew's stutters of trying to find the right words and failing, he merely hopped over and ruffled the boy's hair. "You are terribly cute, you know that?" Probably anyone could understand the look on the Canadian's face displayed that this was not the reaction he was looking for. "Come now, relax! You have gone through a lot, and it is normal to be confused. Give it a day or two, and I am sure everything shall fall into place."

That was an optimistic way of taking things, but he was right. As time went on, Matthew could recall more and more things from his life. Maybe it was just the jarring confusion of what was going on and what was happening that made his mind spin. His childhood memories were coming back, somewhat, in short feelings and flashes of pictures, but other than that...

"If that does not work, you may have amnesia," the brunette explained, to which Matthew nodded at. "Do not worry, though! A tiny bit of retrograde amnesia is not the end of the world! Sooner or later, you shall be able to re-live those moments you lost, no worries!"

While the nurse was in the room, these words gave the boy a small hope. Yeah, he could handle this. It wasn't like he forgot _everything_, he just mixed up a few things. He wasn't mentally challenged now, nor was he injured to the point of being crippled... Memory-loss. Amnesia.

Matthew nodded. However, despite the initial confidence, when the nurse finally left the Canadian alone in the room, guilt settled through.

He didn't forget anybody. He forgot the person he _loved_. He forgot his own _brother_.

Shuffling back into his covers, the Canadian curled in on himself. Tomorrow he would remember, he attempted to convince himself. Tomorrow he would be relaxed and…everything would be fine again. He would wake up and suddenly hit the one memory he needed that would push all the pieces together. For now, though, he allowed his eyes to slide back shut, and his mind to relax into the dark unconsciousness it came from.


	2. Chapter 2

The first one to visit after that was Alfred.

Alfred was the type of person who came barreling down the hall, ramming into the door and throwing it open without even knocking first, then tripping over his feet when he took a single step inside. In a hospital, even.

"Dude! Mattie bro! How ya doing?"

Matthew had been quietly playing with his dog, Kumajirou, who was so kindly brought over to him by his parents, on his bed. The presence of the dog itself made the Canadian especially happy, since the he brought back so many memories. He used to bring his little ivory ball of fur everywhere with him, from parks to schools to friends' houses... Though despite all this, he still constantly found himself tripping over the name he gave the pup.

The only problem was that Matthew bought Kuma on his own, when he moved away from his parents. This meant that he was no closer to the brother-lover situation than before. Sure, he had memories of James and Alfred playing with Kumajirou, but just how someone played with the puppy didn't mean anything about the type of relationship he had with them.

"I'm doing well. Mom and dad came over, so they gave me some things to do while I'm waiting to heal. Apparently work isn't too angry at me about missing a few days..." the Canadian replied quietly, giving a light smile to the other. Despite every movement bringing another painful jerk to the male's figure, he was feeling better than being completely immobilized like before. The nurse from before had brought a few more blankets to keep the Canadian warm, and now his hospital bed looked like some kind of cozy nest. The doctors were talking about bringing Matthew home as soon as possible, so he could heal in the comfort of his own home with someone he knew taking care of him.

Matthew, even now, still didn't know who that 'someone taking care of him' would be.

It should be his lover. His partner. Yet, because the male was by himself in the hospital, information wasn't easy to achieve. Even his own phone, which was returned to him with his dog for something to do, had the vague screensaver of a Canadian maple leaf, and his contacts only said names, no 'hubby' or 'that idiot bro' labels. The most frequent calls went out to Alfred, but that didn't necessarily mean anything, the Canadian soon realized. James was the strong and silent type, talking only when he needed to. Alfred would call even if he saw the grass blowing in a different direction than yesterday.

Alfred paced over to the bed leisurely, despite the racing attitude earlier, and gave Kumajirou a quick ruffle of his head as he plopped into the seat beside the Canadian. The same seat as he was in when Matthew woke up, and even in a similar stance: leaning against the fluff of the covers while glancing over at the hospitalized Canadian. The dog's tail wagged slightly, poking the visitor with his nose before it glanced back to his owner with a look of confusion. For some reason, whenever someone gave the pup attention, he would always look around in bewilderment as if he had no idea who had just been there.

"You been taking care of Mattie, right Coco?" the American asked, trying to pick up the dog to pull him on his lap. The dog wasn't exactly light, and seemed to worm around in the visitor's grip, but as Alfred was pretty strong, the dog eventually ended up on his legs anyway.

"His name is Kumajiji."

"Yeah, something like that."

There was a pause, and the visitor turned his attention to Kumajirou, muttering not-so-quiet greetings and praises of 'good boy' to the curious pup. Matthew watched the two of them with a smile, sitting back and letting the two have their bonding time.

He loved Alfred. The scene in front of him drew a gentle pounding in his heart, but...

The American glanced up a moment later, his bright cerulean eyes meeting with Matthew's, creating a jarring pause through the Canadian's body. "What'd you say? You got some stuff? That's awesome! The happier you are, the quicker you'll heal, right? Keep strong and happy, dude!" The male burst out laughing, casually leaning back in his spot and slinging a lazy arm over the back of the chair. "Maybe I should bring you some of my super-hero-get-well shake! That'd speed up the process! I bought some dye to give it that extra zing too! It'll taste awesome!"

Matthew tensed up at the recommendation. "I...think I'll be okay." He really didn't need to get _another_ internal injury.

Alfred patted the dog's side as a warning, before lifting him up and placing him on the foot of the other's bed. After this, he himself hopped over and flopped next to the Canadian, leaning back on the pillow and tossing himself against Matthew's shoulder. The male twitched, because the American was somewhat laying on an _extremely_ painful area, but he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he tried to focus on what the visitor was doing, noticing the light sigh of content and watching as those eyes slid shut in relaxation.

"When're you getting out?" he spoke quieter than usual, and the fulfilled hum of Alfred's lulling voice somewhat made the pain of open flesh and bone being laid on tolerable.

"A week, I believe." Shuffling to the side made the American's head move off the wound, but it still felt awkward to bend in the way Matthew was bending. The news of him getting out in a week might have been a stretch though. The real news was that the Canadian might stay in a bit longer, especially with some damage that was done, but most looked alright. They said at least a week and a half. A week sounded less of a burden though. Besides, it might happen...

"A week's not bad!" The male threw up his arms, wrapping them around the Canadian who had wrongly assumed he had avoided the rest of the pain for the day. A small squeak of agony left the boy's throat, though it seemed as if Alfred didn't hear, as he continued chatting away. "To be honest, dude, it's like you never left! I mean, you were always invisible and in the background anyway, so it's like you're always around with us!"

Matthew let out a rigid laugh. The truth hurt sometimes.

Though with Alfred cuddling against him like a child would, the warmth he spread made the Canadian's heart flutter. The male smiled to himself upon a glance at the other, and he pushed back into the embrace, with only a slight wincing in his movements.

This was nice. It was warm. He loved things like this.

"Let's play baseball when you get back, alright? I'll go easy on you."

Alfred always had a way of ruining the moment. Like Alfred ever 'played fair'. "Sure. That sounds like fun."

The warmth of a brother who would always laugh and smile around Matthew. The warmth of a lover who would always focus on the positives to make Matthew feel at ease.

Alfred F. Jones was still a mystery.

* * *

><p>The next time James came over, he was dragging Matthew's laptop, a hockey stick, and some type of duffel bag into the hospital room. Unfortunately, when the husky male trudged inside, the Canadian was fast asleep against the bed, his numb head laying against the pillow after a stressful attempt to recollect his memories. Whenever he wanted to speak up about his troubles with deciphering who was who, he usually opened his mouth, only to chicken out with the hope that he could handle this on his own. He could figure this out. It should be so, so easy to figure out.<p>

The Canadian awoke, however, at the noisy footsteps of the visitor. The male couldn't recall hearing a knock, but it was the distinct thumping of heavy shoes that echoed through his mind and dragged him into the annoyed consciousness. James, unlike Matthew, was someone one could never miss when they entered a room. Even his footsteps could be noticed, whereas Matthew could shout and still be mistaken for someone else...

The blonde let out a groan, easing his eyes open to see the hazy image of other Canadian in the room, placing his laptop on a nearby table. After a moment, James appeared to notice Matthew wake up after he put the object in its place, and glanced over from his spot. He didn't react much, but merely turned his gaze over with dull, violet eyes. Even now, compared to days before, he still looked as sleepless and distant as he had always been.

"Ah. Didn't mean to wake you." James's voice was always grating to the ears, with its guttural growl of a noise out in the open, and the way it snapped and scratched when contained inside a room.

"It's alright," Matthew replied, rubbing his eyes and glancing up from the hospital bed at the new visitor. James slunk over to a seat beside Matthew slowly, lazily tossing the bag he held to the edge of the bed, as well as holding out the hockey stick to the other male.

The Canadian paused, staring at it for a moment, before he finally reached his hand out and curled his fingers around the wood.

"Something wrong?"

This was Matthew's hockey stick. It wasn't just something precious, it was like gold and treasure was brought right to his doorstep. With just this, his mind flourished with the memories of holding this, playing with it. Kumajirou glanced over at it curiously as the Canadian began holding it in its correct way, moving it around, tilting it, shifting it. This was normal. This was his life.

"No, that's fine..."

His memories weren't dead. He could still remember moments in the past, events that he had with and without both if the unknown males. With this hockey stick, he had won games, and practiced with both James and Alfred. He had brought both to important games of his. However, these events were ambiguous and not very detailed with who Matthew kissed and who Matthew hugged.

Yet, they were memories. Little by little, the Canadian would figure things out.

"The bag's full of food. Don't know what crap they're feeding you, but it's probably horrible," the harsh one said, giving a shrug of his shoulders in dismissal at the act of kindness. James hadn't exactly been known for acting gentle and nice out of his own will. Matthew knew that, deep down, the gruff man was a sweetheart though.

"Thank you..." A nagging question tugged at Matthew to ask if James brought over four bottles of maple syrup so he could down some coffee with it, but that seemed like asking for too much. Maybe asking something more simple would do, as there were a few other things that the Canadian wanted to ask. "How's the team?"

James appeared to dismiss this question with a shrug. "They're terrible without you."

Flattery was always nice, and it made the Canadian's chest glow with confidence. Yet... Was James the brother who would discard all the others because his own brother was the coolest? Or was this the lover who would compliment the male over and over just to see him smile?

This was terrible. He was thinking about this damn problem constantly, and it was starting to affect his general thinking. This whole ordeal had gotten to the point where even trying to visualize the two men in either roles seemed to be null and void. Picturing James as that person Matthew sat on the couch with making out on a simple day of leisure was just as vivid as picturing Alfred as the one Matthew held in a passionate embrace under the mistletoe at Christmas.

Looking even farther back wasn't any help either. When Matthew was a kid, he remembered his brother standing up for him by threatening bullies to back off. However, Matthew could picture both scenarios: Alfred holding a baseball bat, James holding a hockey stick. Then there was a brother memory of Matthew being mistaken for his sibling quite a lot. This, however, played no use to an ending either. James and Matthew looked quite alike, as did Alfred and Matthew.

He could remember so much of these two and their beings, but no label.

Matthew forces a chuckle anyway, leaning back in his bed. "How many games are left?"

"Enough that you could play the final one," he answered in a monotone, glancing off to the side. "If they even get that far."

Even though James didn't seem into it, talking about the subject that Matthew had a passion for at the distance the visitor placed himself in was more relaxing than being crushed into Alfred's arms. However, it definitely seemed more loving and familiar with Alfred being close compared to being quite so far away from James.

He really was no further than his first step.

James was a person of few words, so he didn't bother to stay long. The idle chit-chat could only last for so long before there was just nothing to talk about. However, only at the end did he end up giving a kind act of familiarity as he was walking out. He paced over, gifting the fellow Canadian with a quick ruffle of his hair, as he upturned the corners of his cheeks just slightly. "Get better soon, alright?"

As the husky male left, Matthew felt a heat spread through his face from the pat. However, the same problem arose as with Alfred.

Lover, brother. Brother, lover...

* * *

><p>It had been a week since Matthew had woken up, and a check-up with Doctor Beilschmidt was due. Throughout prior meetings, it appeared that the doctor, Gilbert (as he insisted to be called), was a rather relaxed male with a bit of an overconfidence issue. If he gave a diagnosis that he was confident about, he stuck with it, despite how the other doctors rolled their eyes after every time he did such. At least he was friendly instead of the terrifying stereotypical doctor that wouldn't give one the light of day.<p>

Luckily, the Canadian wasn't feeling as stiff as usual throughout these past few days. He could move around, but walking was still somewhat of a hassle. Someone was needed to help the Canadian over to the room where he would be examined.

The beginning was the same as any form of check-up earlier. Gilbert asked how everything was, if there were any problems, and Matthew answered accordingly: No, just some pain here and there and numbness, but it would probably go away with time. He didn't want to declare that the pain somewhat got worse at that one point when Alfred hugged him, since that was to be expected that a tight hug wouldn't lead to healing. His arm still throbbed as bad as it always had, though he assumed that it was because the Canadian had been moving it the most to write and play on his phone and prevented it from resting. He didn't feel any of this was worth speaking up about.

However, after the conversation went on, and the X-rays and the scans repeated, the Canadian pursed his lips, tempted to speak up about the one thing that was really bothering him all this time. The results came out clear though: Matthew was healing. Jut a few more days and he'd be out. No problems, the doctor declared with a smirk, even though the patient was biting his lip on the sidelines.

His heart pulsed as the check-up started to end, and as the doctor ended off the paperwork and collected the objects to clean. He should have spoken up sooner. He should have said this right when he walked in, and yet, he had been too nervous. He was still nervous, but the chance was dimming. Once Gilbert left, he would have to wait another week.

"I just...have one thing I'm worried about."

Maybe he shouldn't have said anything. His memories were getting better! Honestly, with every passing day, he could recall more and more things... It was probably his own fault that he got this 'problem', making it into such a big deal and trying to force it out instead of waiting for things to happen naturally... He could have even just asked James or Alfred! They wouldn't have minded if Matthew just told them, right? Well, it would be offensive to say that your own partner and your own sibling forgot who you were... At the same time, it wasn't like Matthew _forgot_ who they were, just-

"Yes?"

Oh, gosh, here it was. The moment of truth. There _was_ something wrong, despite all the things that appeared correct. There was one little memory issue that Matthew had: one he didn't want to admit so outwardly.

He had to, though. He promised himself he would ask the doctor first, then his family.

What if even _knowing_ who was who wouldn't change any form of confusion?

"I... Well, there's a problem. A memory problem. I think." This was turning out worse than the male hoped it would be, and it didn't help that now the doctor's eyes were latched onto him with intrigue. "I can't... Um, remember certain people. I mean, I can remember a lot of people, just not two important people."

Gilbert blinked at this confusion, which Matthew had to turn away from. Why did he have to suffer through this? Eventually, the doctor chuckled though. "You think you have a bit of amnesia? That's not terrible. Usually after a concussion, the memories just before the incident are more vulnerable to being lost. You said you remember most people though?"

"Yes?"

"Then you still have a lot of your memories, right? And you still remember things that happened after the crash?"

Matthew nodded.

"Then you have a mild retrograde amnesia," the doctor answered, leaning back in his seat with a smirk. "It's not a big issue."

"You- You don't understand," the Canadian now interrupted, his voice shaking slightly. "I don't... I don't know what to do! I mean, I can remember my parents, and my dog, and my friends, but... When it comes to James and Alfred, I can't tell which one is my soul mate and which one is my brother! I... I don't even remember if I was married or not, but I remember _them_, kinda... They both seem so similar, and I don't know who they are, but...!"

The Canadian ran a finger through his hair. This was just so...aggravating! And he didn't know how to explain it! It was only a bit of memory loss, yes, and it wasn't the end of the world, and it really wasn't like he was memory-impaired... He wasn't in trouble, and it wasn't like he tried the obvious solution of _merely asking_.

Damn it, maybe this wasn't serious at all.

And now he was wasting this doctor's time with his problems. Great. Wonderful, Matthew.

"So... What's the issue? You can't tell people apart? That might be prosopagnosia then, but if you can tell other people apart but not those two, then I doubt it would be this..." The male hummed, and Matthew's gaze flickered towards him. "Are they twins? Maybe you just forgot how to tell them apart and you need different tactics to deal with this."

"It's not that. They _look_ different, but I don't remember which one I loved and which one is only my brother."

"Did you ask them?"

Matthew rubbed the back of his neck. "It's not...the easiest thing to ask."

"Why not?"

"Well..." The boy fidgeted, but he had a point. It wasn't a problem of high degree... All it was was asking who was who. Yet... "Would you just...ask? I just want to know...how should I go about this. Without offending anyone. I mean..." Ugh, he didn't know how to explain this. He attempted to wave his hand around, a nervous tick of a motion that tried to help him explain the situation. "What would _you_ do? If you couldn't tell two very close people apart from each other?"

Gilbert scoffed and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "I _wish_ I forgot the one I'm 'in love with'," he muttered bitterly, rolling his eyes. "There was the intelligent, college-bound policeman and the annoying cook and I had to choose the damn cook..."

Matthew blinked. Perhaps this wasn't the best person to go to for romantic advice.

"Is the problem just that you're not sure who you love and who you don't? Because if that's the case, you could just start anew."

"Pardon?"

The doctor glanced over, scarlet eyes beaming with his smirk. "I'm asking what the _real_ problem is, because it seems like it's more than just a label that you're worried about. If it was only the labels, you could have just asked, right? But maybe it's more than that. Maybe your feelings have just...changed." To this, however, he merely shrugged. "Maybe that amnesia hit made you change, and you don't see your brother or partner as those roles anymore. Maybe you love both of them equally, or neither of them. That's not really a problem, just a change."

Matthew tried to follow, thinking back to James and Alfred. Loving both of them? Neither of them? Both of these thoughts were terrifying, but it wasn't like Gilbert was tapping on the wrong string.

"Why don't you just start anew, if you're really unsure about who these two are? Treat them like friends, and if you fall in love with your partner all over again, perfect! If you don't, that's a downer, but at least you're not lying to yourself with a mere 'label'."

"B-But what if I fell in love with my brother?" the Canadian screeched, looking over to the doctor in terror. He, however, didn't appear phased by this, and began collecting up the rest of his documents and shoving them inside a particular folder.

"I've seen worse things happen than a mere incestuous relationship. And hey, what's in the way of stopping love, huh?" A few seconds after this, Gilbert cussed. "I've been spending too much time with Francis..."

Matthew paused, glancing down to the ground as the doctor finished off cleaning the area. He nodded to himself, his teeth grazing over his lower lip, trying to piece together what to do. He loved Alfred, and he loved James. Maybe it wasn't so much faulty memories as much as the problem was based off of actual emotions. He wasn't sure. He couldn't be sure. Maybe he didn't actually love his partner, or maybe he just wanted some weird kind of polygamous relationship?

"So...what do I do again?" he asked, looking back up at the doctor, as he got up from his seat. He just needed to be sure on what to do. He still wasn't entirely sure about what the male was telling him to go with.

"Just relax, take a deep breath, and see where it goes. It's not the end of the world if you love someone different, or if you forget someone, or anything like that!" After a laugh, Gilbert gave the male a pat on his shoulder; though quickly apologized when he heard the light screech of pain the blonde emitted. "Try it out for a few days! Nothing should stop you from the future you truthfully want!"

Gilbert left the room, and Matthew soon trailed behind. A nurse aided him in stumbling back to his room, though the Canadian found himself quiet through the entire walk. Deep in thought, the male eventually came to a small, tentative conclusion of what was happening.

He forgot his past life with his brother. He forgot his past life with his true love. Those lives were gone, and in the future, here...

Alfred and James were both potential partners for him.


	3. Chapter 3

To celebrate Matthew finally being able to walk around without feeling immense pain, Alfred explained that he was going to bring Matthew out somewhere special: an amusement park.

As was expected, the doctors didn't exactly find this a grand idea for a healing patient. Even the name of the park, 'All the Thrills', didn't appear promising on any form. However, Alfred was quite persuasive in his argument: Matthew should get some kind of bright excitement, something fun to look forward to, and it wasn't like the American was going to drag the poor boy on every roller coaster and any ride that could break his neck. It was more for the sights and sounds, as well as the food. Besides, there were quite a few rides Matthew _could_ enjoy, such as the ferris wheel and the merry-go-round. Slow, easy rides that they could go on together, and Alfred would play the role of his guide (Well, he said 'hero', but Matthew knew what he meant) that would help him along.

Tentatively, there was a passing flag to the trip. Gilbert warned the Canadian about getting too carried away though, and that the hospital was releasing him within a few days. If he got an injury, he threatened, Matthew would have to deal with it on his own.

Sooner than later, the suspense of a trip outside the bland hospital walls was over, and the duo were happily driving along in Alfred's car. The carefree air of singing to stupid songs and playing the little games such as 'I spy' seemed to hold them over for the trip, as well as the occasional small talk. It was like Matthew hadn't been hospitalized at all, and they were merely going for a regular outing together.

A regular outing as brothers? As lovers? Nope, that didn't matter. Matthew was going to start anew, just as he promised himself. That meant allowing his true, genuine, _present_ feelings for Alfred F. Jones to shine through instead of the flimsy memories he lost.

When they finally drove up to the lot and found a cramped parking spot, Alfred was the first to jump out of the car, hopping over to Matthew's side soon after to help him out of the vehicle. Maybe it was his injuries, but the Canadian felt incredibly cold through this simple, windy weather, which was somewhat ironic considering Matthew used to be the one who would crack jokes at the American for bundling up too tight. Yet, Alfred was in a mere leather jacket and jeans, while Matthew was tied up in a toque, gloves, and a light scarf. Even then, the breeze blowing the wrong way could easily send a shiver up the male's back. Maybe he was just used to hospital climate. It was a shame, really.

Either way, that didn't stop Matthew from moseying along with his ambiguous partner to the entrance. Alfred volunteered to pay for the tickets, leaving the Canadian to wait on a nearby bench while he dashed off, claiming it would be faster that way and Matthew could enjoy his time sightseeing for a bit.

All this free movement for Matthew was something though. As the male realized, he wasn't exactly as injured as he thought. Once he actually started walking around, he got the hang of his limits soon enough. The real only downside was that Matthew still felt quite numb in a number of areas, which lead to some awkward positions of sitting and standing, as well as the sensation of touch to come out in weird places. He thought that poking sensation of his leg one time was just Kumajirou's nose. Nope. It was a spider. The nurse _still_ teased him about that.

Sooner than later, Alfred came dashing back to the Canadian, waving around the bright ticket stubs in his hands. Poor Matthew, who had been staring blankly at the flashy 'All the Thrills' sign at the entrance, didn't even notice his return until he felt the rough jerk on his arm. "I got 'em, Matt! Let's go in! Come on, come on!"

The Canadian winced, but one look at the bright expression of Alfred made his smile perk back up. This was it. He was going back to his true life, and this was the first step.

"What ride are we going on first?" The colours were blending into unimaginable shapes around them. As Matthew was tugged inside, he was enraptured by the way it seemed to envelope him inside. The twists and turns of the paint, the loud noises, the shouting, the laughing, the smells, the sights... Donuts were wafting in the air, signs were flashing neon advertisements despite being in the brightened sun, the children were dashing around in joyful mixtures of balloons and tacky hats...

Compared to the blankness of a hospital room, this was like Disneyland. Matthew's gaze was enchanted, strung around the mere view of everything. Alfred, however, was a bit more impatient.

"What ride do you wanna go on first, bro?" he asked, trying to tug the male deeper inside. He seemed to have gotten a map from where he got the tickets, since he pulled that out of his coat, opened it up and waved the colourful surface full of cartoonish drawings of the rides in front of the Canadian's face. "There's the ferris wheel, the merry-go-round, the haunted house, the carnival games..."

"What do you want to go on?" However, as the Canadian glanced up, he noticed Alfred stubbornly shaking his head.

"Nope! Mattie, today is your present! You choose, mmkay?" With the wide smile the American flashed, Matthew was almost caught for a minute. Compared to the slightly selfish and childish attitudes Alfred could be known for, this was actually a sweet gesture. However, this idea in itself only made the Canadian wondered how long something like this would go for before he snapped.

Also, Matthew kind of had no idea what he really wanted to ride on anyway. "I don't care where we go..." His gaze turned downcast, scanning over the sheet of paper with intrigue. There were a lot of nice-looking rides, but for the one the Canadian was dying to get on? There wasn't exactly one he had his heart set on; not that he could have actually been allowed on, anyway.

"Then choose something! Anything!"

Matthew frowned, but attempted to look a bit closer, at the ride descriptions, giving a thoughtful hum. He really, honestly, didn't care. He was open to most things, and he really didn't want to bore Alfred either and give them both a bad time. On the other hand, Alfred was like a child at heart, he would probably love all the rides. "What's the most recommended? I mean, of our options."

Alfred hummed in return, his eyes glazing over the map as well with a look of consideration. Unlike Matthew, who seemed to be focusing on the ride description, the American went straight for the looks and chose the ride that appeared to take up the most room on the map: the merry-go-round. "Something simple, but not too fancy, ride-wise. Plus, it's like, right there."

Sure enough, the merry-go-round was a display that went practically right in the middle of the park. Yes, the duo needed to pass through a few daredevil rides, but the walk wasn't to the entire other side of the park. When the two were finally in front of the majesty of the carousel, they gave it a longing stare, before meeting gazes with each other. Their grins raised, and soon, they were rushing into the line like they had shrunk back to being children again. Sure, at certain appearances, the object was tacky as anything; however, there was a certain bright art to it that just seemed to catch their eyes. In fact, there was even a particular horse Matthew had his eyes on: one that seemed as white and pure as the fur on Kumajirou. Of course it was decorated in the glittering golds and silvers of rhinestones across its saddle and mane, but it was still a nice beauty compared to some of the others, which were also coloured in weird shades of blue and an ugly green.

On the other hand, Alfred's attention appeared to be focused elsewhere on the ride, probably at the horse that he would enjoy to hop up on. Though, as soon as the door opened to allow the rest of them to saddle up on, the American's attention immediately returned to the other blonde. "Which one do you want?"

Matthew made note to look around at the other options, before tentatively choosing off the one he found interesting. Alfred followed the Canadian loyally, and when they got to the horse, he gripped the other's waist, pulled him up, and made sure he was stabilized to balance on the fake pony.

"You alright there, dude?"

Matthew snickered. "Perfectly fine, Al. Go get a horse before they run out."

The ride was simple, at best. The horses went around, moved up and down, there was the simplistic, mechanic melody of carnival tunes... Matthew's eyes flitted around for a moment, glancing around at the carnival surrounding them for a while, but really, it wasn't the greatest thing in the world. None of these rides probably were, especially with the Canadian's handicap. However, it _was_ genuinely nice, and the worried looks he got from Alfred were a boost in the ride as well. Constantly, the male found himself waving his hand in dismissal of any form of danger. It was sweet. Alfred really did care about him, despite 'not seeing him' quite a number of times.

As they got off, they instantly talked about the next ride, and rushed off to continue their day.

For the most part, the day went by without a hitch. A risk of the swinging ship did send Matthew in a bit of pain, which was their cue for a lunch break, and then Alfred got sick on eating too many of the disgustingly fatty donuts that were being sold. After that, one of the rides broke down and was put for being unavailable, so the day began to end sooner than had been planned. At least the weather remained sunny, and the rides that the duo rode on actually were made to be rather enjoyable, with the two messing around quite a lot of the time.

However, after a few rides, Matthew noticed Alfred's gaze flickering off somewhere else entirely. He recognized the look the male had instantly: the look of longing. It was a look of latching onto something beautiful, like when window shopping and something specific catches onto a straying gaze. However, when Matthew followed the other's gaze, he found it connecting to none other than the roller coaster that everybody raved about in the reviews of this place, the 'Rocky Roller'. It was the top-seller, apparently, and for good reason: It looked fantastic. Despite being a wooden roller coaster, it had enough views and turns that it definitely appeared worth the wait in the line.

Matthew almost chuckled at how predictable the American was.

"Do you want to go on that ride?" he finally asked, snapping the other male out of one of his trances. However, after he was tugged away from the daydream, he shook his head.

"You can't go on," he replied simply.

"You can go on it if you want, by yourself," Matthew offered again, giving a shrug. "I can stay here."

"No, I wanna be with you. This place is open tons of other days!"

"But we're already here."

"Yeah, but that wouldn't be fair, y'know?"

"I really don't mind."

"Dude, chill! I wanna stay with you!"

"What if I force you to go on?"

"What? Why?"

Matthew stopped in his tracks, then placed a hand on his hip and waved his finger at the other male, obviously playing up his act. "Alfred F. Jones, you're going to go on that roller coaster and you're going to like it!"

Alfred paused, but eventually burst out laughing at the view. "What are you, my mom?"

"Maybe."

"I'm not getting on it, bro."

"Now, mister!"

"Dude, seriously! I'm _totally_ fine missing it!"

"It's my day for being sick so long, so I get to choose. And I choose for you to go on that coaster so I can see your stupid face when you get off!"

"I'm not getting on!" Alfred shouted back, giving a huff afterwards. "Besides, it won't be stupid! I'll look heroic like always!"

"It will look stupid, Alfred, trust me."

"It will not!"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah!"

"I bet you _twenty bucks_ you'll look stupid."

"You're on! Just watch me!"

With that, the male dashed into the line, shouting something about being an awesome hero. Matthew smirked in triumph.

_That_ was how to deceive a gullible American.

The longest part of the ride was the wait for the line, but even that seemed amusing to the Canadian as he watched Alfred gaze in amusement towards the roller coaster. Watching him ride took no more than three minutes total, and the picture that came up from the in-ride camera of Alfred was only decent. It wasn't heroic, nor lame, though there was still bound to be an argument over it either way. Matthew took a picture of the image with his phone, then moved off to wait for Alfred's return to where they separated ways.

After the American walked out, the two glanced up and stared at each other for a moment. Alfred's bright eyes met with the quiet gems of Matthew's, and they locked for a short moment before they both burst out into a fit of howling laughter.

Alfred eventually tugged the Canadian into a tight hug, snuggling up against him the moment he got a chance. The crowd around them must have looked to the two like they were drunk. "Dude, you're the best. Have I ever told you that?"

That settled it.

"You are too, Al," Matthew replied, before his excited gaze turned elsewhere. "Come on! Let's try and get another go at the swinging ship before the park closes!"

"Hell yeah!"

No matter how special this was, no matter how much Matthew held this moment to his heart, no matter how much he enjoyed every second of his time, Alfred was a friend. A close friend, a best friend, a sibling, it didn't matter. Matthew loved Alfred, but as someone who would be there through thick and thin, someone who would look towards the light and drown out the dark, someone who would get into stupid fights with him, and tell him he was being a jerk when he was and siding with him when someone else was being a jerk to him. Someone who would be different than him, but still compliment him and give the two of them things to talk about. A friend. A close, special friend.

With that, Matthew held no fear in locking arms with Alfred, and dragging him along to the next collection of rides for the night.


	4. Chapter 4

James, on the other hand, had a more relaxing activity in mind to celebrate Matthew's leaving of the hospital: a picnic. Nothing fancy, nothing over the top, just a relaxing day in a relaxing park with the group of them talking and simply enjoying a nice day.

The plan was that, when Matthew was finally admitted out of the hospital, James would be the one to pick him up and take him immediately to the park. After this, he would bring Matthew back to his house and the Canadian would go on with his normal daily routine from there. Alfred was originally going to tag along with them, but due to work, he was required to call it off. A sigh of relief was heard from both Canadians when they heard that Alfred was going to give up making that dreaded welcome-home cake for now. Maybe next James would go to the hospital with a sprained ankle, he'd save it for that. James didn't seem fond of the idea in the least.

Through the planning, Matthew learned that he lived alone. Him and Kumajirou lived in peace in a tiny townhouse just for the two of them, dismissive of any conclusion the lover-brother ordeal had to offer. At least Matthew had the freedom that he didn't have to kick anybody out of their home just because of his own change of feelings. That would have hurt more than just merely asking who was who...

At the same time though, this would have been a major discovery in the fact that Matthew was probably unmarried, and that James was probably the Canadian's brother and not his partner. However, as Matthew dismissed holding romantic feelings for Alfred already, this 'discovery' turned out to be less important than it may have been before. He felt confident addressing his present feelings for the other male, and even if Alfred _was_ his past lover, it wasn't like he hated the American now. He still felt close to him, and he still wanted to be close with him. As a romantic interest? Not so much. This was a choice Matthew felt optimistic about, and he would address it as such even when his past memories conveyed something else to him.

James, however, was still grey territory.

It wasn't like James and Matthew were on unfamiliar territory, but the Canadian still wasn't entirely sure what his feelings were saying yet. The emotions for James, while warm and special, were different than with Alfred. Maybe it was just because they were different people, so they had a different friendship, but Matthew wasn't sure. This picnic was probably the experiment to bring that all to rest.

Like as planned, Matthew was picked up in the front of the hospital at around ten. After the verbal questions of items which Matthew could have forgotten inside, the two were on their way to the park. Luckily, their destination was just along their way to the Canadian's house, so going around wasn't much of a hassle at all. A half hour or driving exchanged with small talk, and the car was parked on the gravel lot in front of Riverview Grounds.

It wasn't the nicest day to be out for a calming picnic. The sky seemed to be rather cloudy and murky, and the promise of rain was an option, as the weather forecast described. It wasn't particularly wet yet, but it appeared as if most others had decided to stay in for the day, as the park was nearly empty. Sure, there were children running around, and a few groups of friends or families, but they was sparse and spread out along the large area. James promised there were umbrellas and coats in the car if needed, and that if it were to rain, the two of them could just continue eating at Matthew's house.

When they were parked and settled, they hopped out of the car and headed out deeper into the park.

Matthew had always found this park especially beautiful. The fields were wide and open, with a play area for children to climb around and occupy themselves with, as well as an array of tables to seat oneself at. The trees grew at their own pace, with the large oaks draping their leaves as a canopy over the area. There even a small wood growing along one of the trails nearby, leading off to a little hiking expedition. However, in the proximity of this park, large areas of grass was what occupied the most surface area, so people could run around, or even just relax with a nice blanket. Sometimes the city got together and had events in this wide area.

Despite how nice it would have been to sit in the middle of the open field on a sunny day and gaze up to the sky, it seemed as if James chose to pull Matthew to the trunk of a tree instead, where the thick branches hung over them as a shelter from the impending rain. A checkered blanket was unfolded and laid onto the grass, before the two Canadians took their seat on either side. The backpack James had dragged along, which was probably substituted for a basket, was placed in the middle of them.

"I made sure to make some pancakes," James admitted in his mumbling tone, unzipping the bag and reaching inside. A few tupperware containers were brought out and scattered along the white surface of the carpet, ranging from salads to Nanaimo bars and a few small sandwiches. The pancakes that were eventually brought out looked cold, but that was to be expected, considering they had probably been in James's car for a while. Hopefully the taste would still be there though. "And maple syrup."

As James opened the containers and unwrapped the pancakes, Matthew helped by pulling out the plates and cutlery, issuing one to the both of them. "I doubt there will be any leftovers," he breathed with a laugh, now finding a pitcher of lemonade within the sack and pulling that out as well. James shrugged at the remark, but took the first pancake for himself and shoved the rest over to the other Canadian.

After everything was settled and ready, and the two poured themselves and a much-needed drink, Matthew decided to speak up and start conversation.

"What have you been doing? Since I've been in the hospital?"

There was a silence as James finished a sip of his drink, and Matthew occupied himself by dumping the bottle of maple syrup over the pancakes that were pushed his way. "Work, mostly," his gruff voice muttered, before he turned to the sandwiches and collected a few of those for himself.

"I see... How is work?"

"Good."

James remained glancing over elsewhere, though the two did meet eyes for a second. Matthew smiled, and James gave a nonchalant nod before he pushed a few slices of bread into his mouth.

Was this something of an awkward start? James wasn't much to exactly talk anyway, but after being away for so long, the smaller Canadian had hoped for at least a happy conversation that they could celebrate to. Something upbeat, maybe, and that would convey how much they really missed each other while they were separated by the hospital. Not so much like how Alfred conveyed his emotions in hugging and shouting, but at least something positive. Maybe something was wrong? Maybe he should ask if anything was up?

Though, at the same time, when the male glanced up to James again, there was still that warmth. James was the rough, tough lumberjack who really didn't open up because he felt he didn't need to a lot of the time. Due to this, Matthew knew people treated him as cold and heartless, but as he noticed the other Canadian's mild gaze stray around the park, he knew that the other was just quiet. He didn't need to talk. He just felt being here and being with Matthew was enough, and they didn't need to yap about to enjoy their day.

Or, that was what Matthew hoped.

James caught him staring soon enough, and turned to meet their eyes. Despite the monotone expression he held for a bit, eventually the sides of his mouth did twitch slightly upwards. It was small and probably unnoticeable to the straying eye, but Matthew's heart glowed as the other's face relaxed.

Matthew beamed in return as he went back to his meal, shoving his fork into the soft sides of the pancake and plopping the pieces into his mouth. This was going to be a silent, soothing day. Nothing was wrong, and nothing needed to be wrong.

The next time someone spoke up, Matthew had finished off the first half of his stack and moved on to try a few of the other dishes. Maple syrup was covering his fingers, and he was trying to lick the sticky substance off when James spoke up.

"There was a deer." He didn't look over at Matthew, and instead appeared to be glancing up to the murky sky. "In the back, yesterday. We tried to bring out a carrot to it, but it was spooked and ran off before we could get close."

"Did you see any more moose?" Deer popped up here and there, but moose seemed to be the most exciting thing to see. Since James resided away from the city and nearer to the forest, he saw quite a bit of the wildlife around his house. It was even an inside joke that the male wrestled moose out there; despite how much he denied to doing such.

"One," he answered, taking the last bite of his sandwich and moving on to take a Nanaimo bar.

"Maybe you should leave more food outside," the Canadian suggested with a chuckle. "They'd come more often."

James shrugged to this, leaning back against the tree. "They're surviving in the wild, they don't need me."

"That's true. Though I bet they enjoy your company out there."

The Canadians went back to their silent eating soon enough, though Matthew couldn't stop smiling. _These_were the slow-paced, easy-to-follow conversations that he enjoyed with James. And, throughout the rest of the picnic, this emotion remained. The conversations following were gentle and relaxed. There didn't seem to be any immense rush to leave-other than the ugly clouds roaming overhead-and the two could just catch up on each other. Unlike the moments with Alfred at the amusement park, this wasn't a high-paced rush to race into lines and to cram in as many rides as possible. Matthew could just live and breathe, talk about hockey and life and work... Sure, the upbeat lights and sounds of the parties Alfred threw were amazing, but the Canadian was an introvert at heart. James was just...relaxing. If he had the choice on an ordinary day, Matthew would probably choose the picnic over the amusement park.

While James was gazing to a far-away place, the other Canadian couldn't help but to look at him the majority of the time. Sometimes, the lumberjack glanced back, and the blonder of the two gave a small smile, and other times Matthew turned away before they met gazes. It wasn't awkwardly looking to and away from each other, it was like they could just lock eyes and convey a silent, mutual feeling of understanding. Even when James took one of the containers to issue himself a bit more salad, all he needed to do was hold the container up for offering, where Matthew waved a hand in dismissal for. Wordless, simple communication.

Though, maybe it was too silent, even for James. As they met eyes for the umpteenth time, the gruff male appeared confused.

"Something wrong?"

Quickly, the other Canadian shook his head. "Nope! This is perfect, James, thank you."

James blinked for a moment, staring at the happy male for a while before he, too, appeared to relax in expression. He reached over, then lightly ruffled the Canadian's head. "I'm glad you're feeling better," he replied, just as the warmth of the other's hand and the kind words made Matthew's face heat up.

No, this was definitely a different than what was with Alfred.

The rumbling of the sky drew James's hand away, and the two turned up to the air. The clouds were getting more ominous, with their blotchy surface tumbling over the treetops. Even this, however, didn't seem to phase the glowing emotion brimming inside Matthew.

It was so different, and the Canadian couldn't deny it. As they chatted before, Matthew found himself entranced by the little words, the things he said, the silences between them. It always seemed as if they were on the same page. Alfred was fun, dragging Matthew along here and there with fun ideas and the two got along, but with James, it was like there were some things they just didn't even need to say, and that they were just there, out in the open.

Because unlike Alfred, who was playful and happy and made Matthew feel like he was living the world, James made Matthew feel safe, at home, and like he was loved unconditionally.

"Did you want to head back?" James was the one who spoke up, though he gave a shrug afterwards. "It's not raining yet..."

The people who heard the same thunder appeared to be asking their groups the same question. Some decided to pack up and leave, whereas others stuck around and joyfully continued with their activities.

"I can stay for a bit longer," Matthew remarked, turning to smile at the other.

Maybe he should try something. He felt, yes, closer to James, but was it love? Maybe? Was this the hint to a growing spark, or just the closeness of a 'best friend' compared to a 'friend'? Either way, he should try. He should just take a chance.

Nervously, the male sucked in a breath, then turned to James. He caught his attention with a simple call, to which he followed with his little desire. "James, do you mind if I do something...?" What was the word? Unexpected? Weird? Outlandish? You might be my brother but I might love you? "Odd?"

James blinked, but eventually gave a shrug. "I don't see why not."

The Canadian still wasn't quite convinced. "You won't mind?"

"Depends what it is."

Matthew fidgeted, now biting his lip. That didn't exactly seem the most...promising. He just didn't want to ruin a friendship by testing out his feelings. For all he knew, this was just a side-effect of the drugs he was taking. Though, it also may not be this. He didn't know. He honestly didn't know how else to figure this out. Sure, he could let time go by and try and figure it out on his own, but that was like the 'regaining memories' ordeal all over again. He wanted to focus on his present feelings, not just wait for vague answers in future footsteps. He wanted to take action, find his true self.

"Alright." Matthew took a small breath in, then shuffled himself over to the lumberjack's side, pushing the knapsack out of his way to meet James shoulder-to-shoulder. After this, another deep breath was required before he could turn to meet his eyes with the deep, violet others that belonged to the other Canadian. A flutter twisted in the blonde's heart and he turned a light shade of red, just before he leaned up and pecked his lips to the other's.

In no way was this kiss compared to the kisses of his lover before. This was Matthew's new life, and he just wanted to feel this for a moment: the moist, tender lips of James Williams; no matter who he was or wasn't. The kiss made James tense up, but the male kept them connected for a bit longer anyway, his eyes remaining closed as he did so. Just after Matthew traced the tips of his fingers along the other's face, he finally pulled himself away.

When he finally opened his eyes to get a glance at the other's reaction, Matthew found James to appear shocked. He blinked rapidly for a moment, before furrowing his brows. "Why...?"

"I..." The look of shock wasn't entirely what he was looking for, but... James wasn't much of a touchy-feely person anyway, so maybe it was just too soon for something like this; especially if it was just after the hospital, and he might not be his lover. Yet...

Matthew did feel it. He did. A pulsing emotion of shame strung through at the moment, but the truth was that if he was given the option, he would kiss James again. This mix of emotions made the Canadian stutter, red-faced, as he tried to explain what was going on.

Now was as good a time as ever to explain his dilemma. It may not have even been what James was looking for, but...

Matthew took a deep breath before he began talking about it. First, not knowing who was who, then trying to figure it out, followed with him talking to Gilbert and wanting to figure out his present feelings on his own. He realized that he must have sounded insane as he tried explaining this, and meeting the stare of the person he was explaining to was now extremely difficult, but he pushed through. Even as the thunder rattled and the Canadian's face began to feel drops of water caress his cheeks, he remained on the blanket and tried to pull his sentences together, the logic, everything.

"But...I love you, James," he finally admitted, after the words poured out of his mouth and into the damp air. "I...feel strongly about Alfred, but...as a friend. A close friend. A best friend, maybe, but..." His eyes flickered up to the other male, but soon pried themselves away to glance elsewhere. "I know that, in my heart, I chose you. I would have chosen you no matter what."

He couldn't look. The Canadian's breaths were heavy as he watched the field, anticipating the answer James would provide on the whole ordeal. Though he attempted not to focus too much on the other, his ears all too easily heard the sigh that came from the gruff male's throat, even through the drumming raindrops surrounding them.

"Matthew," he began, his voice more quiet than usual. The Canadian could feel his presence there, and that terrified him. It made his body feel heavy, drooping down to the inevitable answer. "Would you love me, even if you heard the wrong answer?"

"Yes." He already knew this, and Gilbert had gone over it before with him. There were worse things to happen. If Matthew loved James, then he wanted to love James, no matter who he was. This wasn't the labels guiding him, this was the pure, genuine emotion of butterflies in his chest, tugging him towards the one person he was sharing a blanket with.

Another pause rang through the silence. The rain started picking up, which made Matthew hold his arms to his chest and tilt his head downwards. After a few large drops slapped onto the Canadian's scalp, he felt a hand place on his shoulder.

"I love you too, Matthew." It took a minute for these words to finally register through the smaller male's ringing ears. However, when this came through, the blonde glanced back up, eyes coming into contact with a wet James, whose hair was probably just as limp and stringy as Matthew's was in this ongoing rain. "There's no way I couldn't."

He loved him. James loved him. The Canadian froze for a minute, before his heart took control of his body. His smile returned, upturning even as the rain crashed onto his body to make him shiver. On the other side of the blanket, it seemed as if even the lumberjack was replying with a light smirk.

No words needed to be said after that. As Matthew shuffled forward once again, their wordless, simple communication allowed them to get closer and closer. James tugged the other onto his lap, while curious hands traced over the gruff male's wet chest. They only needed a moment of sheer curiosity and infatuation in their closeness, before James took the other's chin and connected their lips once again.

As the raindrops continued to fall, Matthew and James fell deeper and deeper through the exchange of their kisses.

* * *

><p>Gilbert had been right. Even when Matthew finally spoke up about his dilemma to the others in the days passing, the true answer of who was who really didn't impact anything. Yes, there was shock and distain at the Canadian forgetting who his own lover and brother were, and Alfred seemed the most disappointed through all this, but after explaining the situation, there seemed to be a begrudging understanding. Time would settle things, hopefully, and this would all just be a past experience; something to look back on as an experience, but also something that wouldn't interrupt the future.<p>

In the days following, Matthew invited James over to experience more days like the picnic with him: quiet, ordinary days where they could just live, breathe, and enjoy each other's presence together. His past popped up through photographs and later epiphanies, but even that didn't seem to obstruct the passion the blonde felt when James simply pat his head to thank him.

Thus, the incestuous relationship between James and Matthew Williams grew anew.

* * *

><p><strong>Plot twist: Matthew was having an affair anyway, so him mixing up memories wasn't actually him mixing them up, because he actually did have them sexy times with both.<strong>

**Plot twist #2: Neither James nor Alfred were the brother or lover. Francis and Arthur burst in out of nowhere from a business trip and shower Matthew with love. The end.**

**Want an alternate ending? The lovely Anon007 decided to write a little oneshot/sequel on this story! Please look into it! Just throw this up after the fanfiction url! **/s/10952680/1/My-Chapter-5-of-OllieGil-s-The-New-Days-of-Forgotten-Days


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